


Crestfallen

by mysterysiria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Real World, F/M, Heavy Angst, Human Derek Hale, Human Lydia Martin, Human Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Implied/Referenced Character Death, POV Female Character, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, grieving reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterysiria/pseuds/mysterysiria





	1. The Beginning

I watched the rain, falling in tiny drops as I thought I was staring into nothingness. The truth had come to me in an inchmeal. The last of their voices I heard, still reverberating in my head like it was just moments ago. It was, in fact, just a few moments ago. In no less than five hours they were still alive. The police apologized for waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me the news, but they didn’t wake me up. I never slept. There was a bothering feeling around me all night, and I knew something wasn’t right. And I knew that it was something I didn’t want to be right about.

The sound of the rain came to my senses when I closed my eyes. Standing by my window, I was glued to the floor, refusing to be moved by time. By the world. By the truth. I wanted to drop into the gravel floor and become a puddle just like the rain was. Falling to the warm cement and wet everything are its only purpose. And what purpose do I have now? My parents never taught me what to do if I were ever without them. But they were ever gone before I knew it.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They go before you know it. When you least expect it. When you didn’t even once imagine yet what it would be like for you to be walked by your father down the aisle on your wedding day. When you haven’t yet thought of what kind of crazy, even obnoxious stories your mother would soon be willing to tell you when you got older.

But here I am now. Wondering what all of that feels like. The rain didn’t stop falling. As if the sky was mourning with me. Like God was telling me that He was crying with me because I couldn’t cry. Not yet. The strong front I had was much too strong, I couldn’t even begin to cry despite the repeated shattering of my heart. I’ve already seen their corpses at the morgue. It was them. Without a doubt. And the police were disturbed to see my resting bitch face. The sheriff was more worried than disturbed. I knew he would cry if he lost his child. Everybody around me was heartbroken. Everybody around me cried for me. Pitied me.

“It’s the most unfortunate thing that could happen to a child.” I heard a lady say that in the hospital. But I could imagine more horrible things. My parents’ death was somewhere in the top three of the worst, most unfortunate things that could happen to me.

I remember my first day in Beacon Hills. I remember it vividly. It was a Friday. A very gloomy Friday. From one small town to another, my view from the passenger’s seat changed the way I feel like my life was changing too. I knew we were driving closer to Beacon Hills when the surroundings were mostly trees and forests. I heard Beacon County had vast forests, and the largest one being that in Beacon Hills. I was at all levels of sadness that very day. The windshield of the sedan was foggy and moist. My mom’s cousin, Natalie Martin picked me up from what used to be my home in Hill Valley.

I couldn’t forget Natalie’s worried look during the whole trip. I thought she couldn’t tell I was looking at her because she was in her head so much, probably thinking how to take care of me, or maybe how to coax me - a grieving teenager. This last year in high school is supposed to be the best one. But not for me. My parents died just a week before I was headed to Beacon Hills. And I had to leave my friends in Hill Valley because…well, I guess I’m an orphan now. I heard stories around town. Some said they died in a freak car accident.

I’m not sure what to believe because my Dad was a cautious driver. And my Mom was with him. And it didn’t rain until it was morning. I don’t know, it just doesn’t make sense. Maybe I’m just in denial. Or whatever. Maybe my Mom’s cousin is probably as baffled as I am.

“We’ll be there shortly, honey. I promise you. Things will be better from now on,” Natalie said to me. I didn’t say anything, but I just looked at her and nodded. Natalie worked at the high school as a faculty member. That worried me. I kinda didn’t wanna be monitored in school. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to be left to mourn alone. It doesn’t matter if I had tears or none.

My cousin Lydia is just my age. She was a senior that year too. I’m not very comfortable about all of this. But I guess it’s a good thing that Natalie’s here to take care of things for me. I just felt like I couldn’t move. I felt like putting my life on hold would’ve been what I’d done that year.

The drive to the Martins’ home was a little close to dreadful. Natalie and I didn’t exactly have the aunt-niece relationship you might expect. They weren’t that close with my Mom when she was alive. And I met Lydia probably just twice in my whole life. Thinking how close our neighboring towns were, we’re practically strangers for people who are related to each other.

When we approached their house, I could tell it was theirs because Natalie smiled at herself, seeing that she’s finally home. The long, awkward, and silent drive was over. I’m not sure what was harder to bear - the drive from my house to theirs, or the fact that I’ll be staying with a blood relative I barely know. When we pulled up at the front yard, I saw my cousin coming out of the front door. Lydia always looked pretty and presentable, just like her mom.

“We’re here,” Natalie said, bringing up her sweetest but still sad smile for me. I smiled a little back at her. Still not saying anything. Natalie suddenly held the fingers in my hand. My hand didn’t move at all. “Hey. I’m grieving too. Don’t ever think you’re alone in this.” I wished I was alone in this. I nodded slowly at her.

“Thanks for taking me in with you,” I said, words finally have come out of my mouth. I know my parents would’ve wanted me to be polite at a time like this. Natalie looked at me sympathetically and then embraced me. This is why I wanted to be alone. Her embrace was so warm that I had to fight my tears from welling up in my eyes.

“You’re family,” She said, brushing the side of my hair and caressing my cheek with one thumb. And that moment, she kinda looked like my mom. I fought my tears again.

It was about to rain again and Lydia went to the car to greet her mom and give me a hand with my luggage. “Hey…I’m so sorry about your parents. Come on inside, I’ll take you to your room,” Lydia said, offering me a gentle rub on my shoulder. I smiled and didn’t say anything. I looked around the neighborhood. It was so quiet. But leaves were rustling in the trees, being blown by the cool wind. I just thought to myself, maybe Beacon Hills was mourning with me. Then the rain poured a good pour. The day felt melancholic and colder than it was supposed to be.

Natalie’s house was all prim and tidy. They had a swimming pool and lots of space to roam around in. Lydia took me to the guest room which was just across hers on the second floor of the house. I mentally asked myself how long was I going to be live in that house. With the Martins. I almost conjured the rest of the questions forming in my head but Lydia interrupted it.

“Do you need anything?” She asked me. I just shook my head and pressed my lips. “Okay,” she whispered. “Tell me if you need help unpacking.” I nodded at her. Lydia felt awkward with me, I’m sure, but she didn’t show it and kindly left me in the room. I still remember. I sat on the bed for like thirty minutes and stared at the window in front of me. I wanted to cry now that I was alone, but for some reason, I didn’t. I couldn’t. The best I could do was frown and feel dead inside. I spent the rest of the day in the quiet. When it was time for dinner, I tried my best not to bring awkward silences in the table. But I still managed to. My parents’ funeral didn’t exactly make it easier for me to accept that they were dead. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk the way I used to. I guess I wasn’t normal.

I didn’t unpack yet ‘til Sunday, because that was when I had to prepare for school. The weekend went by fast. I almost didn’t notice that Monday had come. Lydia and I drove to Beacon Hills High School. Oh, great. Another dreading ride in the car.

“You’re gonna love it in Beacon Hills,” Lydia said to me. “I’m not trying to pull a positive cousin sham here, but I know that you will. You’ll fit just right in,” She said with a smile and glanced at me as we pulled over at school.

“Are you saying that people here are as weird as me?” I wasn’t in any mood to pretend I was happy or my old self again. Lydia squinted her round eyes as she turned off the engine and said, “Actually, yes, that’s what I’m saying.” She didn’t even let me respond to that and went out of the car. She waited for me to walk beside her as we approached the door.

“Hey, Lydia!” An energetic boy approached her with the most enthusiastic greeting I have ever heard in days.

“Y/N, This is Stiles,” Lydia introduced me to her friend. “Stiles, this is my cousin, Y/N.” The wide-eyed boy smiled at me, greeted me, and extended his hand to shake mine. I smiled back and shook his hand. The three of us then went inside the school together. Lydia dropped me off to the principal’s office to speak with the principal and get my locker combination and class schedule. Another dreading half-hour for me. I felt like all these scripted sympathies from the principal and the looks the school employees gave me were something I didn’t need at that moment.

My first class was AP Biology and I was seated beside this tall, dark-haired boy. He had a kinder smile than most people, I thought. I brought out my notebook and he brought out his, too. Mrs. Finch, the biology teacher, introduced me to the class without wasting any time. Good. I didn’t wanna have to be all sobby.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m Scott,” My seatmate introduced himself. I tried my best to smile better at him than how I did with my own cousin. But my smile was still sad. “Where you from?”

“Hill Valley,” I said quietly. “Oh,” was all he could say. I think it’s my fault. I was unknowingly becoming an expert at being a one-liner. At lunch, I ate alone at a corner table, minding my own business. Then the boy in my biology class came up to me, holding his tray.

“Hi Y/N, remember me?”

“Scott,” I plainly answered. His face brightened up when I said his name.

“Can I sit with you?” He asked, and I just nodded. The table was wide open. I was the only one seated there. My first day and I was automatically the outcast. But then Scott sat in front of me and I felt he was about to make small talk with me. And he was. “So how’s your first day going?” I nodded slowly before answering. I really had to conjure more words this time.

“Okay,” Was all I could say. I failed yet again. I’m never gonna make friends in my last year of high school. Scott nodded shyly at me, probably thinking of how to keep the conversation going because apparently, I’ve only said three words to him. Maybe four. Yep, only four.

“Oh great, you’ve already met my cousin,” Lydia said as she approached the table with Stiles and just sat beside Scott. Stiles sat beside me.

“Oh, this is your cousin?” Scott asked Lydia, his face almost frowning. “Yeah, she’s in my AP Biology,” he continued, now with smiling eyes. I wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation even though it was kinda about me. All I could think of was, I hoped that I had the energy and enthusiasm of these two new people I just met.

“So, Y/N, where are you from?” Stiles asked me, but before I could answer my one-liner, Scott already answered for me.

“Hill Valley.” Stiles immediately looked at Scott in surprise. I looked at him too, but I think I was expressionless that time. I just went on and started to eat my lunch. I listened to the three of them talk about some of their other friends who were currently on a camping trip. I observed the three of them. Stiles was the most talkative of them. And very smart, too. He and Scott were like soulmates. You know, not in a romantic sense. And Lydia, she was the apple of Stiles’ eye. I was glad that Lydia saved me from sharing my sob story from these new people. I could tell she’s quite the intuitive type. She’s changed a lot. I thought she would never sit with me at lunch. I may have met her only twice, but I always knew the two of us were too different to be in the same circle.

When classes ended, I had to wait for Lydia to finish her Science club meeting to be over. I decided to wait by the bleachers looking over the lacrosse field. I was mindlessly watching the team practice when I noticed a familiar body in the field facing my direction and waving his hand. I looked around me and noticed everybody else who was around me noticed him too and he was waving at me. He removed his helmet and showed me his bright smile. I thought he’s dorky. But pretty cute. I raised my hand shyly as a response and pressed my lips together. When he turned around to get back to practice, I felt the corners of my mouth raise to form a smile.


	2. On Autopilot

I was woken up by the ray of sun coming through the small part of the window that I had forgotten to close the night before. The light was seeping into my eyelids making my eyes roll back to the front and see red. When I opened my eyes, my room looked softly lit. It looked pleasant, as my dream. It was vivid. Clear as reality. I’ve dreamt of them again. But this time I remembered it when I woke up.

I was home again. I was seated on our couch in the living room. An opened book laid on my lap. Dad was seated in his favorite recliner, and mom…well…she was in my view, making dinner in the kitchen. And the house was filled with songs of Michael Jackson from the 80s. We didn’t say a thing to each other, but everything was good. Everything was perfect. Everybody was alive.

I wanted to stay asleep. I wanted to stay in that dream. But no. The day greeted me awake now and all that dream was anything but reality. Another day in this foreign room. In this foreign house. In this not-so foreign town. I drew a sharp breath before getting myself out of the covers. It was a Saturday. I had the morning free and the afternoon was scheduled for me and Stiles to meet for a History report we needed to get done together. He came by at around 4 PM. I was out on the porch when his Jeep pulled up in front of the house. He got out of his Jeep, clumsily carrying his books.

“Aren’t we supposed to do world history? Why do you have so many books with you?”   
“Hello to you too,” Stiles said to me, clearly pointing out I had to do better in this social etiquette stuff. Or whatever you call it. “We can’t just rely solely on our textbook, you know?”  
“Sure, but have you forgotten there’s Google and Wikipedia nowadays?” I responded as I opened the front door for him.  
“Yeah I love that stuff but this stuff is even better. Don’t you wanna ace History?”  
“I couldn’t care less,” I huffed. He turned around to look at me and I was just startled to have him standing too close to me all of a sudden. He squinted his eyes, probably thinking I should be blamed if we flunk History.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.” I didn’t know he was such a go-getter.

When we took breaks, Stiles went to Lydia’s bedroom. And I spent the break hanging out on the poolside. It was getting colder each week. Fall was already in season, and the pool, just like the backyard and the front yard, was full of leaves that needed to be put away.

I jumped when my phone rang. It was Scott. What could he be calling me for? After two rings, I finally picked up.

“Hello?”   
“Hey, Y/N. Sorry to bother you. Is Stiles still there with you?”  
“Yeah but he’s with Lydia now.”  
“Great. Could you bring your phone to him, please? I need to talk to him. He’s not answering.”  
“Oh. Sure. Hold on.” I stood up as I said that and rushed to Lydia’s bedroom, still holding my phone over my ear. I knocked loudly.

“Lydia? Is Stiles there?” I heard shuffling and grunting noises inside and I just felt repulsed. “Scott’s on the phone. Said he needs to talk to Stiles.”

“Tell him it’s about his dad. He’s in the hospital,” Scott said over the phone. I repeated what he said aloud. Then I heard loud thumps and stomping feet, then the door opened revealing a flushed Stiles. His shirt was clearly just worn in a rush. I instinctively leaned back from the door as I handed my phone to him. Stiles loudly whispered “Thanks” to me as he grabbed the phone and shut the door. It didn’t take a minute before the door opened again and Stiles was rushing to get outside Lydia’s room, still holding my phone and talking to Scott. I was left still standing across Lydia’s door, with a peek of her room. I was obviously interrupting something and the moment I realized that, Lydia was standing before the door and gave me a sarcastic smile as she gently closed it. That was my cue to follow Stiles to the living room where our books were laid open from the research. “Y/N/N, I’m so sorry but I gotta go. It’s my dad. Promise we’ll finish this before the deadline. Hang on to the books for me, ok?” He said and then gave me back my phone, rushing to leave.

At dinner, we had steak, salad, and mashed potatoes. Natalie’s cooking was really good, but I couldn’t forget that look on Stiles’ face when he opened the door, even up until he left. It was plastered with worry and somehow, annoyance. I wonder what happened to his dad? I badly wanted to ask Lydia about it but I thought I might be prying. Besides, she’s never given me a look I could smile at since she closed the door on me that day.

***

I spent the next few days letting myself just go with the flow. I went to class, ate lunch with Lydia and her friends, did my homework, I talked to Natalie…I even smiled for her a few times. I felt like I was there but I wasn’t really there. I felt like I trapped myself in my own head and let my brain do all the work for me like I was on autopilot. I couldn’t understand what was going on with me. The only times I was ever really conscious about where I was and what I was doing was when I was alone. When nobody could see me, nobody’s talking to me, and I am just left thinking how am I still breathing.

I took showers at night because it calmed me. One night, I stood on the shower and let the water run across my face with my mouth open so I could breathe. The droplets of water were soft on my skin. It was probably the calmest thing I’ve felt upon me since my parents died. Not that it was long ago, but nothing about me was calm or pleasant anymore. Nothing felt okay. But that moment in the shower was. I felt my heartbeat slow down and I kept my eyes closed. I wanted to cry in there, but not a single tear fell out of my eyes. How is it possible for someone to feel hurt and numb at the same time? What a complicated concept. But it happened to me. Maybe it’s happened to you too. But I hope you’ve handled your situation better than I did.

***

Each day, Scott would always strike a conversation between us. He’s really nice. Sometimes I wonder what keeps him going, what keeps him positive. I arrived in our Biology lab before he did, and he greeted me with his usual innocent smile. He looked handsome that day. He wore a beige shirt and a denim jacket. It was simple but it suited him.

“You’re early,” he said. I smiled at him in agreement because I didn’t know what to respond to that, and he pursed his lips as he smiled back when he realized what he said didn’t really encourage me to say anything. At one point, I wondered if I should just write him a letter to explain things. I felt bad for the boy. “How was your weekend?” Finally, an open-ended question. Not that I would tell him about the glorious shower I had last Saturday.

“Good. I stayed home, so…” I shrugged, letting him assume my weekend was, as a matter of fact, uneventful.

“Me too. There was a lot of cleaning to do,” he replied, scratching his head. “So, what do you like to do for fun?” Three weeks have passed since I moved here and no one has asked me this question. Not even Lydia. I looked at him and thought of what to answer him. I didn’t even know if I was ready to do anything remotely fun. Autopilot, remember?

I raised my shoulders shrugging and said, “Usual stuff, I guess,” then my mind drifted to a memory I carried from when I was eleven. My parents and I went to the beach and set up a tent and spent the night there. We had a bonfire and we watched shooting stars dart across the sky. I don’t know why we never did that again. My mind drifted back to Scott, who was still waiting for my answer. “But I miss going to the beach and having a bonfire,” I finished with a smile. I felt that smile. It was real. It wasn’t forced. And Scott was left speechless and just gave me a smile too. I started to like that smile. I didn’t realize that it’s nice to remember the good things. I miss them. Maybe that’s what good memories are for.

The week after that, I found myself spacing out in class. I almost never remember what the lessons were. The only subject I ever cared to be mentally present in was AP Biology. I couldn’t have Mrs. Finch embarrassing me with her sass for not listening. Once in a while then, I realized how easy it was to cut class. As long as none of Lydia’s friends were my classmates, I knew I was safe from prying eyes.

One subject I liked cutting was English Literature. Ms. Blake was a good teacher and all but I dunno. I just didn’t feel like being in her class all the time. I’d rather listen to Mr. Harris in History than learning about Mark Twain with Ms. Blake. One time, I decided to finally do it. After the third period, I made sure no one I know saw me. I went outside of the school and headed to the bleachers. No one was there. At least, no one I knew. Just some kids smoking their day away.

***

At the Martins’ home, the house was usually quiet. I would occasionally hear Lydia talking on the phone in her room while I’d be doing my homework or watch TV, or her mom would be making our meals in the kitchen or talking to someone on the phone. I was grateful that both of them just did their own thing, not pulling a Brady Bunch act on me. Definitely, the Martins weren’t anything like the Brady Bunch. One evening, Lydia’s dad came to visit. He was tall, thin, and his eyes popped out of his head. Wherever he looked made him look like he was glaring at it. I felt uncomfortable around him. He was always so critical of everything. I think he never trusted anyone but himself. I thanked God that he didn’t stay for dinner because I really didn’t wanna be in that situation where I’m in the middle of a feud of a family I’m not even a part of. Whenever her dad came to visit, I noticed Lydia would be extra hardworking in school the next day. She would raise her hand all the time.

I never knew why he and Natalie divorced, never even really knew when they did. All I remember was that their family was different from mine. Lydia’s parents seemed like the kinds of people who both went to Ivy League schools and intended for their daughter to do the same. And my parents, well, they were more carefree than Lydia’s parents. They let me explore so many things without pressure. They’ve let me try art, explore astronomy, even a few recreational things like fishing, snorkeling, etc. The only pressure I ever got from them was when I got low grades. I was never an overachiever like Lydia, but my parents wanted me to have at least a good passing grade. Getting a C would already worry them. I miss them.

I miss their voices. Their company. The way they used to say my name. I’ve been having little moments of realizing how my life has changed drastically in their absence. There was no mom and dad for me to go home to. No mom to wake me up in the morning. No dad to watch action movies with. When I look at these kids around me in school, I see that they’re full of life. Laughing over Tumblr memes, cheering over their favorite boy band or geeking out over the latest Marvel movie. And here I am. Breathing. But feeling lifeless. Tell me. How can I move forward from this? How can I feel alive again?


	3. Detention

It was almost November, roughly two months since I moved in with the Martins. Each day was getting colder. Gloomier. Lots of times I had thought about home. I thought about my friends Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. We weren’t the cool kids. And we certainly didn’t dream of being the cool kids. We were what you would consider invisible and happy with it. There weren’t defining cliques in our school. The four of us had our own world. And the one thing we all loved was Coldplay. 

Isaac and Boyd worked at the local mechanic shop after school. Their thing was cars and motorcycles, but just like Stiles and Scott, they also had lacrosse to fill their afternoons and weekends. Erica loved going Star Trek conventions and more often than she should, to the hair salon. I, on the other hand, loved the movies. From the classics like Casablanca to pop culture ones like Pitch Perfect, I watched them all. I adore them all. 

Sure, we had a common denominator. But we talked about lots of things. You know that kind of friendship that doesn’t need a reason to be together? That’s how we were. How we used to be. I missed them so much. But at this point in my life, I was not ready to face them. Is that weird? I missed them, but I didn’t wanna see them?

***

On the first week of the month, I didn’t know much about what was going on with me, but it sure got me to trouble. It was a dreading week in gym class and Coach Finstock was being a lot more annoying than usual. Such a loudmouth. He kept calling whoever was not as peppy as he was.

Unfortunately, I was one of those kids. Sometimes I mentally told him off, asking him what kind of teacher he is when he clearly lacks empathy or anything remotely close it. I mean, if a kid is less than energetic than other kids, what does that tell you?

I was getting annoyed by the way he kept snapping at me with his loud, phlegm-induced voice whenever he caught me just standing or sitting in a corner. No matter how loud he yelled me, he didn’t intimidate me at all. We had rock climbing and I didn’t want to participate. I was afraid of being up that wall, no matter how strong the harness was. There was no way I was going up.

“Y/L/N, everybody climbs! Now! Up you go!” He demanded. His voice was rough and loud, as always. I kept a straight face and didn’t move a foot. I already told him I didn’t want to go. I even explained how terrified I was of being up there. For some reason, his hostile temperament kept me calm no matter how I tried to explain and be firm with him.

I guess there was no way to reason with this guy. He turned his back on me when I thought I was still thinking, still trying to brace myself for that impossible climb, when I heard myself utter in my most sarcastic voice, “Up you go my ass.”

He turned around. He heard it. He heard me. Fuck.

“What was that young lady?” he threatened. My lips were sealed. But my eyes were screaming murder. “What? You’re mute all of a sudden?” He was chuckling now, enjoying this very moment of my embarrassment. Everybody was looking at us now. At me. I glared at everyone around us, looking at me. “Look, Y/L/N, I haven’t got all day. Detention. NOW.” I inhaled deeply and turned around. I could still feel my eyes murdering him. But somehow I was relieved for not having to climb that wall, but also just a tad bit worried about what Natalie would say. For sure, it was gonna be something I don’t wanna listen to.

I spent an hour in detention scribbling all sorts of profanity that I was screaming in my head. I drew trees. Lots of it. And they were all terrible ones. I’m no artist, that’s for sure. That whole hour, I realized how good Lydia and her friends were as students. They always had things coming and going. I think they were never in detention. I thought of them as my hand drew lines in my notebook.

Scott was getting mostly A’s in AP Biology. Two weeks ago, he started using big words like “ephemeral” in normal conversations. Everyday, he had a new word. I found it pretty funny, actually.

Meanwhile, Lydia got busy with her Math and Science clubs. There was an inter-school math olympiad competition coming up, and a science fair for middle schoolers that the high school Science club had organized. Stiles wasn’t academically competitive compared to the other two, but he devoted some of his free time helping out his dad at the police station. He’s so smart about detective stuff, I think he might join the police force in the future.

They’re such good kids. Sometimes I felt ashamed hanging out with them. Especially that Lydia is family. There’s always that thing. The chance to be compared to her. Anyway, I enjoyed detention. I was away from everybody. But as soon as the bell rang, my fun ended as well.

When Lydia and I got home, I rushed up to my room and buried my face to the bed. I felt like time was passing so fast that I could already picture Natalie’s face frowning at me. Judging me. The next thing I knew, Lydia was waking me up for dinner. I basically slept for two hours trying to escape this shithole I seem to have dug myself into.

I wasn’t wrong. I was bound to be confronted about my recent behaviors in school.

“I heard you were giving Coach Finstock a hard time today, Y/N,” Natalie began. I knew it. They pick up on trouble like fucking hound dogs. She didn’t even just call me to her office and waited ‘til all of us got home before she decided to do this talk. In front of the food. In front of my perfect cousin. I just looked at her as I picked on my food with my fork.

“He’s the one who gave me a hard time. I didn’t wanna climb.”

“How do you expect to be graded if you don’t participate in class? And speaking of which, Principal Thomas told me you’ve been skipping classes, too.” I didn’t say anything back. I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed when she herself was in school every day as well.

I also didn’t look at her. But I could already feel my face heating up. Lydia’s wide eyes were on me too, of course. She didn’t know I was in detention. If people’s bodies appeared literally the way they felt, then my head must be burning now.

“You better fix that attitude, Y/N,” Natalie commanded.

“OR WHAT? What are you gonna do, huh? Tell my parents?!” I don’t know why I said that but it just came out. My heartbeat was picking up and I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I stood up quickly before she could say anything back and rushed to my room and locked myself in there.

I badly wanted to run away. No. I wanted to disappear.

That night, Natalie tried to talk to me. She knocked a few times but my lights were already off and of course, I pretended to be asleep. The next morning on the ride to school, Lydia and I were silent as dead people in a graveyard. I was still cranky from the night before. I probably looked like I could kill someone with just a look in the eye.

***

Stiles and I agreed to meet after school for another History project. I asked him if we could go to his house this time. I didn’t want to come home early. I told Lydia I would be with Stiles. I guess she hated my guts so much that she didn’t even bother hanging out with her boyfriend for a while.

Our History project involved a lot of research and analysis for a thorough report and debate due the following week. Talk about making things complicated. Our discussion started at 5 PM and ended at around 8:30, when his dad had just arrived from the station, bringing us dinner. We were so into our discussion that we totally forgot about dinner.

An hour later, Sheriff Stilinski was already drowsy from drinking half a bottle of Jack while he studied cases from the station. He was talking to himself, trying to understand them. I watched Stiles get stressed over his dad. They would bicker just about anything, especially about food. At times, they forget I was around that they would exchange roles of being the parent and son in the room. Sometimes I found them amusing and sometimes I found things between them sad. A better term would be ‘bittersweet’. I never got to know this side of Stiles. I thought he was all sarcasm and jokes and the daily avoidance to face life’s shit. But here he was. Facing life’s shit daily.

He and his dad take care of each other. His mom passed away when he was young. Stiles had always made sure his dad ate well. Even though he allowed him to drink at night sometimes - just to soften a hard day’s work. Anticipating the day to come for another hardball to play was another thing, I guess. A drink, indeed, was necessary.

That night, Stiles caught his dad finishing a whole bag of fries from the takeouts. Of course, it was too late for anything except him scolding his dad about hypertension. After putting him to bed, he went downstairs mumbling, “People say it’s difficult to raise kids. But did they ever think of kids who try to raise their parents?” It was almost 9 PM and we just wanted to patch up a few details before calling it a night.

He offered to drive me home in exchange for finishing later than agreed. If I were to decide, I would say he needed the drive too. We were mostly quiet during the ride home. But I was comfortable with it. I wasn’t pressured to talk about anything. Stiles became someone so easy to be with. Perhaps that’s why, when he pulled over at the Martins’, I blurted out something that’s been in my head for a while.

“You’re lucky you still have your dad, Stiles,” I quietly said. He looked at me with the expression he’s never showed me before. I believe the word for it is ‘concern’. If not pity.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” he muttered. I guess it was ‘pity’ then. “I shouldn’t have complained. It just…gets really difficult sometimes.” It turns out, I judged him for pitying me. When did I become so snobby and judgmental?

“No. I’m sorry,” I insisted. “I didn’t mean for you to compare your life to mine. I’m just…I know I’d do the same if I were in your shoes. It’s not like we have a choice, right?”

He looked at me in the eyes almost without blinking. I could tell he was thinking of what he wanted to say to me. But instead, he gave me that sad smile I’ve been seeing everywhere - from almost everyone I spoke to. I didn’t resent him for that. His mom died too. I can’t imagine growing up without my mom. And he did. And he became this really strong person he probably doesn’t even know he is. Since then, I never looked at Stiles the same way. He was a responsible kid, no matter how strongly he wore that clown facade. He has earned my respect that night.

If one of my parents were still alive, I would do what Stiles does. I’ll make sure they live longer than they expect themselves to.


End file.
